Electric Barbarella
by mtranc3
Summary: The TT series is the best robotic model the Interplanetary Industries have to offer and Jensen suddenly finds himself with his very own copy. But if Jensen thinks the robot is nothing more than an elaborate toaster with a big mouth, he is sorely mistaken. AU, Jared/Jensen


**Title:** Electric Barbarella  
**Author: **mtranc3  
**Fandom:** Supernatural RPF, CW Network RPF  
**Pairing:** Jared/Jensen  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** The TT series is the best robotic model the Interplanetary Industries have to offer and Jensen suddenly finds himself with his very own copy. But if Jensen thinks the robot is nothing more than an elaborate toaster with a big mouth, he is sorely mistaken.  
**Disclaimer:** The story is based on a book by Freddy Germanos called 'Good news from Venus'. The title comes from a song by Duran Duran.

"How many times do I have to say it Daneel? I don't want it!"

Danneel sighed audibly and her reflection on the videophone blurred for a moment.

"You know as well as I do that the Interplanetary Industries do not accept returns unless there are extenuating circumstances…"

"Then tell them there are extenuating circumstances!" Jensen spat against the screen.

Danneel rolled her eyes and tried again with a different tone of voice. The one that made Jensen feel patronized. He detested that tone.

"Obstinacy is not one of them. Besides, the company will be good for you."

"It's a _robot_, Danneel."

"It's the latest model the Interplanetary Industries have to offer. It talks like a man and thinks like a man. It can make decisions… It will be useful around the house. Now we can spend our remaining minutes arguing over this or we can…"

_Here we go…_ thought Jensen. He dreaded the next part. He tolerated Danneel well enough but he could never get used to the whole videophone sex thing. It was weird and it left him with this empty feeling afterwards.

"Listen, they will be here soon, can we do this next time?" he asked, motioning to the door.

"You're right, our time is almost up. Do try and enjoy your present, Jensen. It will free up so much of your time."

_Yeah, right…_ Jensen thought bitterly but managed a terse smile for his girlfriend.

Danneel ended the call and Jensen wondered whether the Central Processing Unit had made a mistake when it had matched them. But of course it hadn't; the Central Processing Unit was always right. Right?

oooo

The Central Processing Unit was a super-computer. The United Nations had placed the future of human kind on its metaphorical hands after the third nuclear war had wiped out most of the planet's population. Its prime directive: the salvation of the human race. And it had performed grandly. Or so the statistics claimed. The human race was steadily increasing and the off-world colonies were thriving. Danneel who was Jensen's 'assigned partner' was working in one of such colonies, where they were drilling for oil. They communicated through scheduled interplanetary calls and would one day make their contribution to the propagation of the species.

oooo

Jensen made for the green book but quickly pulled his hand back when he heard Tee-Tee open the door.

"I told you to knock when you enter my room!"

"Yes, Jensen."

The highlight of Jensen's mundane life pretty much consisted of reading the book that was now peeking out of the second drawer. However, with the robot in his apartment he was denied of that small pleasure. The thought irked Jensen to no end. He also had suspicions that the robot might be an informer; he would be in deep trouble if the robot ever found the book.

"And quit skulking about!"

"Yes, Jensen," the robot said obediently. "What would you like me to do?"

"I don't know! Just go and stand somewhere else!"

To Jensen's surprise, the robot left the room, presumably to go to the living area, and then shouted, "Is over here all right?"

Jensen shook his head. It was a funny little robot, though in reality there was nothing little about it at all; Tee-Tee was freakishly tall, with broad shoulders and hands like rowing paddles. It had a mop of brown hair and friendly hazel eyes.

"I think like a man and talk like a man," it had said, echoing Danneel, when they delivered it on Jensen's doorstep. "Also," it had added with a shy smile, "I have a humor chip installed."

It was indeed a funny little machine, right down to its name: TT-1060.

"My full name is Tee-Tee Ten-Sixty," it had said holding out a pair of dog tags hanging from its neck.

_Tee-Tee like the click of a keyboard_ Jensen had thought.

"But you can just call me Tee-Tee –all my friends do!"

Apparently, all the TT models looked identical; like dishwashers of the same brand.

The robot was now knocking softly on the door.

"Jensen?"

"Hm?"

"It's stuffy in here. Would you wish for a fresh air can?" He waved the cans in his hands. "We have mountain air and sea air. Would you care for one?"

"No, I wouldn't," Jensen said stubbornly even though he had been thinking the very same thing moments ago.

"All right…" the robot paused for a second and then asked in its usual chirpy tones:

"How deep underground is this complex?"

"You asked the same thing yesterday. We're 175 feet below the ground."

"Oh. That's good."

"How so?" Jensen asked bitterly.

"Well… it's nice knowing that there are 175 feet of solid concrete above you. It's safe!"

_Go to hell_ Jensen thought.

"What exactly lies in the surface?"

"You can read about it in a digital encyclopedia. Now stop bothering me!"

"Jensen doesn't like me!" said the robot plaintively. "I realized it during my first week. Maybe Jensen expected me to be more primitive… with flushing light bulbs and rattling corks screws. Jensen should know I am a technological marvel!"

_Go to hell_ Jensen thought once again.

"I'm almost human!

"You are nothing but a toaster with a big mouth! That's what you are!"

oooo

The book was unlike any other book Jensen had ever read. The only written words people were allowed to read were encyclopedias and the pamphlets released by the Central Processing Unit, so the book had to remain a secret, passed timidly from hand to hand. It described the simple pleasures the Central Processing Unit had declared forbidden and it was written in a way that made Jensen feel less cold and alone. No one knew who wrote it. They said it was an old and wise man that had lived in happier times. No one knew his name. Maybe no one would ever find out.

"It's almost five o'clock, Jensen. Miss Danneel should be calling soon."

"I know," Jensen mumbled. He wasn't in the mood for a talk with Danneel and the robot's constant presence was grating on his nerves.

"What does miss Danneel's work entail on Venus?"

"She drills it."

"Oh," exclaimed the robot, "it must be very interesting."

"I wouldn't know," Jensen said bitterly, "I never drilled it myself."

He was saved from further small talk by Danneel's call. Tee-Tee excused itself politely.

Danneel's face appeared on the screen and she greeted him with a smile.

"Good evening, Jensen."

"Hello, Danneel."

"How have you been? Are you getting along with TT-1060?"

Jensen lowered his voice;

"Can you have it replaced? I think there's something wrong with it…"

Danneel raised a perfectly groomed brow.

"Weird how?"

"I don't know… it's inquisitive. Always asking things. It gets on my nerves."

She pursed her lips.

"You know very well that they don't take back used robots. Is it that bad Jensen?"

Jensen refrained from answering. He wasn't in the mood for another argument.

"Okay then," Danneel said as if the matter was settled, "we have 12 more minutes. Let's spend them more usefully."

She untucked her blouse and started working on the buttons. Jensen sighed. It seemed like he wasn't getting out of it this time.

Jensen heard the robot entering the room but couldn't muster the strength to yell at it for not knocking.

"It's dinner time. Would you like me to describe the menu for today?"

It went on when Jensen didn't bother replying. "There is a yellow pill which is grilled fish with salad, and a pink pill which is beef stew, if I am not mistaken."

He leaned over Jensen conspiratorially. "I believe the yellow pill seems fresher…"

Jensen rubbed his eyes and stood up.

"Okay, I'll have the yellow one then."

Tee-Tee gave him a big grin. "I shall go and prepare dinner then."

_That's the thing with robots_ Jensen thought. _You have to make truce with them eventually. They are friendly but they can do no more than look at you with sympathy…_

oooo

The pills were another invention by the Central processing Unit. Everything that could cause illness, including fresh food, was banned. It had panicked people into believing that even touch was dangerous. "Beware of germs," it announced from the global videophone, "you never know where diseases might spring up."

Jensen had made his own small fight against the pills. One day he woke up with an immense desire to try an omelet.

The director of the department for Irrational and Outrageous Demands had looked at him in disbelief.

"An egg, you said?"

"An omelet actually" Jensen replied patiently.

"You do realize the consumption of unprocessed food is banned and constitutes a criminal offense?" he said in an officious sort of voice, and then added more softly: "are you perhaps reading subversive material?"

And that had been that.

oooo

One evening a few days later, Jensen was sitting in the living area, while Tee-Tee was making itself busy in the adjacent room. _It must be gathering the trash for its cousin_ Jensen thought with a smirk. Tee-Tee had explained that the Electrical Waste Disposer that travelled though the service tunnels had been made in the same factory as Tee-Tee. "Maybe he's more of an uncle…" Tee-Tee had said when he had a minute to mull the matter over. "On your dad or your mum's side?" Jensen had asked. The conversation ended there.

He suddenly felt a need to read the book. He must have read it a hundred times by now but every time he held it in his hands a window to another world opened.

Jensen heard a gasping noise behind him.

"You shouldn't be reading that!"

He turned around feeling livid. The robot had entered the room holding the trash can.

"How many times have I told you to knock?"

Tee-Tee remained unfazed.

"This is subversive material. I'm very disappointed with you, Jensen."

"I swear to God, if you don't leave my sight this instant, I'll get a screw driver and will not be responsible for the consequences!"

To his satisfaction the robot took a step back apprehensively.

"It's my duty to take care of this household. This book..." it lowered its voice, "it offends the Central Processing Unit…"

Jensen couldn't help smirking.

"Tell me Tee-Tee, are you a coward?"

When the robot didn't reply, Jensen sat in the couch and made a show of opening the book. He turned to page 31 and began reading. Tee-Tee hovered above him.

"Chickenshit. And take the trash to your uncle!"

Tee-Tee zoomed out of the room.

oooo

Jensen's grandmother would have liked the book. She used to tell him stories about how men and women were going to reclaim the Earth someday. Apperently, all the ancient poets had written about it. "They always offered a solution" she had said. "When times were bleak and desperate, they would bring down a God from the sky. They called it 'deus ex machina' –the god from the machine…" It was strange, his grandmothers mind, how it fluttered through the centuries.

oooo

"Are you doing any exercise? You didn't play any ping pong today, did you?" Danneel's face frowned somewhere in the far reaches of the universe.

Jensen's finger lingered over the 'end call' button precariously.

"You know that specialists have recommended table tennis for a reason; it's therapeutic. Promise me you'll call Tee-Tee and play ping pong for at least an hour this evening."

"All right, Danneel."

Her smile was encouraging.

"You'll feel better in no time. It was nice talking to you, Jensen."

"You too, Danneel"

The screen went blank.

He saw the robot teetering at the edge of his peripheral vision.

"I have something for you" it announced.

Jensen raised an eyebrow.

"It's not rackets, don't worry…"

_The bastard_! Jensen thought. _It's_ _eavesdropping on my calls!_

Tee-Tee dropped its armful on the edge of the bed. "I noticed that you always feel sad after your calls with miss Danneel, so I though these might cheer you up…"

Jensen blinked in confusion. When did robots notice such things as emotions? And where did it get all this stuff?

"I took the liberty of… acquiring these for you from the Provisions Centre" it said as if reading Jensen's mind.

The bundle consisted of bottles, boxes and other little knick knacks, some of which Jensen didn't even have a name for.

Tee-Tee pointed to the bottles: "It's alcohol and this here is for music…" He held up a small device with earphones.

Jensen almost laughed in disbelief.

_I can't believe they sent me the subversive robot...!_

"You can't get these things from Provisions…" he offered instead.

"From the black market you can" said the robot and then winked slyly "See? I'm no chickenshit!"

Jensen did laugh then.

"No, I guess you're not. You're still a toaster with a damn big mouth though!"

oooo

_How come I never tasted that? _Jensen thought. The drink had a peculiar taste in the beginning but as he kept drinking it caused him to develop a pleasant buzzing in his head. He knew all about getting drunk from the book but he had never experienced it first hand. The music was another surprise; the only music allowed by the Central Processing Unit was classical, so Jensen didn't know what to make of the strange rhythmic sounds coming out of the portable player. He decided that he rather liked them.

He had his eyes closed and felt as if he was floating inside a blue cloud. Like the ones his grandmother used to talk about.

"There is this old human custom…" the robot said timidly.

Jensen turned to look at it. Its eyes were glinting in the dimmed light and for the first time ever since it arrived Jensen felt glad for the company.

"What custom?"

"It's called dancing. But it involves contact. You must have seen holograms."

"I've seen them. What about it?"

He felt the robot takes his hand.

"It worked like this…"

Jensen was suddenly lifted from the couch and felt disoriented for a moment. Strong arms righted him and encircled his waist. He wanted to protest but he felt as if he would keel over if he was left on his own.

The robot took Jensen's arms and placed them behind its neck.

"I don't know how to dance" Jensen protested, suddenly self-conscious.

"I'll teach you" whispered Tee-Tee and Jensen wondered whether the world had twisted so that he was the robot and Tee-Tee the man.

He run his fingers on the robot's neck trying to feel for a button but all he could reach was smooth skin. That Interplanetary Industries people really knew their stuff.

oooo

Tee-Tee had them swaying in small circles around the room. It had their bodies pressed together, and Jensen was staring to ache with a strange want. He tried to push the robot away.

"That's enough."

Tee-Tee looked dejected.

"Let me do this for you…"

Jensen smiled ruefully.

"The Interplanetary Industries did not design you for this."

"Jensen…"

The robot took his hand and placed it over where a heart should have been. Jensen was about to snatch it back but Tee-Tee held it firmly in place. After a few moments Jensen felt the lightest pitter-patter of a heart beat.

"The Interplanetary Industries didn't design me for this – they didn't design me at all!"

Jensen's eyes rounded comically. This couldn't be possible...

The would-be robot took advantage of Jensen's momentary shock and pulled him closer.

"You know… I wanted to do this ever since I saw you"

Before Jensen could form a coherent thought, he was scooped up and kissed squarely on the lips. And that was when he knew that the Central Processing Unit was gravely mistaken.

oooo

Jensen was lying on his side gazing at the man next to him sleep. His mouth was half open and drool was gathering on one side. When their bodies had untangled the man had shared his story; his real name was Jared and he was only pretending to be a robot (_obviously_, Jensen thought, blushing at the memory of what the man's body had done to his own) because he was being chased from the Intergalactic Police. When Jensen asked for the reason, Jared stood up and reached for the place where Jensen hid the book.

"I wrote this."

"_You_ wrote this," Jensen said with a touch of irony.

Jared simply shrugged. "Thirty times actually, before I had it printed."

It turned out that Jared was part of a resistance faction aiming to overthrow the Central Processing Unit. The book was something like their manifesto. When Jared was identified as the culprit he had undergone surgery to make himself identical to the most inconspicuous being there was: a robot manufactured by the very people who were after him.

Jensen turned the pages of the book with something akin to reverence. For the first time in his life he felt awed.

"Do you know how it was written?" Jared asked, stifling a yawn.

"Inside the Interplanetary Industries, on toilet paper."

Jensen gave him an incredulous look.

"Toilet paper? All 240 pages?"

"Yep. 80 rolls," Jared said and burst out laughing.

_How poetic_ Jensen thought and joined him.

oooo

They slept and woke and made love and then did it all over again. They looked at each other's eyes and smiled. They didn't need words. Their crazy world finally made sense. But only for a moment; while Jensen was running his hands idly through Jared's hair, they heard a beeping sound. There was a call from Venus.

oooo

"Good evening, Jensen."

"Hello, Danneel."

"How are you?"

Jensen fumbled for a moment, trying to think of an answer that made sense. Somehow 'I think I finally woke up after an eternity of slumber' didn't sound very rational.

"I'm great, thanks," he offered instead.

"So you did what we talked about?"

"Which was what?"

"Played ping pong with Tee-Tee?"

_You could put it that way…_ Jensen thought, a little hysterically.

"We did, yes"

Danneel smiled; "That's good! About the robot…"

"What about it?"

She hesitated a little. "I made arrangements. They will be replacing it with another model today. It's the reason I called."

Jensen felt his throat constrict.

"Cancel it," he said in a small voice.

"What? Why?"

"I changed my mind. It's not so bad. It can stay."

"I can't do that Jensen, I've already signed the relevant forms."

"Call them now Danneel! Cancel it!"

"It's too late, they'll be over there any minute now."

Jensen bit his lip, willing himself not to scream. It wasn't her fault. She was only doing this to please him.

He ended the call right when the buzzer rang.

oooo

TT-1085 was tall with broad shoulders and shaggy brown hair. Jensen stared with wide eyes but couldn't find any discrepancies.

"They could have at least changed the noses!"

The robot seemed perplexed. "Excuse me?"

"Or the jaw line!"

Jensen was clearly on the verge of losing his marbles.

_Wait for me_ Jared had said moments before he was taken out of Jensen's apartment and out of his life.

And now here he was, the same face, the same smile, the same warm eyes.

"Would you like me to prepare dinner? We have a yellow pill and a pink pill. If I may make a suggestion… the yellow pill seems fresher…"

"No, thank you," Jared said, suddenly suspicious.

"All right. Shall I take out the trash then? I think the waste disposer will be here soon…"

Jensen was overcome by a crazy idea. The kind that are born in captains' heads when their space ship is about to crash.

"Come here, TT-1085"

The robot stepped closer obediently.

Jensen placed his hands on over his heart space and held his breath.

A steady beat was drumming underneath his fingertips.

oooo

"It's you!"

Jared gave a little wink and smiled. "How ever did you guess?"

Jensen was flabbergasted. "But… how?"

"I switched places with the real TT-1805 when the handlers were arguing about logistics. Let's just say that it's now missing a certain memory chip…"

He leaned in for a kiss. Any remaining doubts Jensen may had as to the man's identity were instantly erased.

oooo

Jensen's hand closed over a small round item in Jared's palm. They were lying on the bed and Jared had been looking at it pensively for a while.

"What is that?"

He held it up in the light.

"A roasted chick pea… every person in the resistance has one of those. Some day one of us will manage to sneak in the bowels of the Central Processing Unit and throw it in its Thought Generator. It's a wacky plan, but you never know…"

"A roasted chick pea, _really_?

Jared laughed and kissed the edge of Jensen's mouth.

"Yes," he said emphatically. "Stranger things have been known to happen…"

And Jensen couldn't find it in himself to argue. Not when about the strange circumstances that brought Jared to his life.

_Like a God from a machine_ he thought. A_ toaster with a damn big mouth…_

oooo

The green book was re-issued after the liberation from the Central processing Unit. It had happened unexpectedly; one morning the Central Processing Unit started singing through the global videophone:

"Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb… Mary had a little lamb, its fleece was white as snow…"

People everywhere tried to find meaning to the words. It didn't occur to them that no matter how elaborate, the Central Processing Unit was still a machine and like any machine it could be broken.

Some encyclopedias claimed it was the overloading of its data banks. Others postulated that there was an integral error in the way it had been assembled all those years ago. But not one encyclopedia mentioned a small detail… when they disassembled it they found a funny little thing.

Something that looked a lot like a roasted chick pea.

The End


End file.
